Blinded
by Acerbitas
Summary: Neji is blinded by his unwavering belief in fate and destiny. Hinata closes her eyes and pretends that everything is alright. NejixHinata


Okay, guys, I wrote this from 3:30-6:30 AM Saterday, er, Sunday morning. The next day, my grandmother was talking, and she used the term: cfs. She's like: "There are a lot of cfs around here. You know. Cousin fuckers. I always thought it was funny, but people get mad when I say it!" Hahahaha, I was like: O.O Lol, cousin fuckers.

**Blinded**

There was no option left for him other then to keep up the dance, even though his legs shook beneath him and his body was lathered in sweat and blood. Repeatedly he locked his enemies' chakra inside of them, rendering them helpless so he could twist their organs asunder. His knives tore at their vulnerable flesh. His breathe was hoarse, his throat parched, his brow feverish. Acute pain shot down his temples, showering his brain with agony. His eyesight was fading, and the chakra he could usually read so well was now a mass of blue. He felt...fear!

It scratched insistently inside his chest, gnawing his insides. Fear is more insistent when it is unfamiliar. He took unhealthy chances in the face of the deadly result of failure.

There were too many of them. He would lose. They would take his information. They would find his clan. They would kill his only son.

Blood shot from his mouth, ensnaring his breath, making it impossible for him to breathe. Blindness threatened: the continuous use of the Byakugen laced his eyes with a time bomb. He was going to lapse into darkness. Eternal darkness, whether he lived through this assault or not.

Twenty assassins for one man. Twenty to take down Neji, the pride of the Hyuuga clan. The enemy had just wanted to be sure.

He could no longer tell how many of them were left. Maybe five. He struggled and failed to drag any more chakra though his wasted nerves, and his eyesight permitted him glimpses into the only most vague of movements. He had no more knives. He swung his fists at them, estimating where to strike from the sounds surrounding him. Someone caught him around the neck, holding him against their chest, pressing callous fingers against his windpipe. He freed himself, only tumble into the dirt. The moist ground enveloped his fingers. He tried to stand up again.

On his feet. Pushed to the ground. Stabbed. On his feet. Pushed to the ground. Stabbed. Blood poured in rivulets down his back.

He had always believed in fate. He gave in to his destiny. He allowed death to retrieve him.

And awoke in darkness.

Helplessness revived the bitterness that his arranged marriage to Hinata had taken away. He stumbled around the manor with permanently weakened limbs, pushing away potential helpers, growling whenever he heard Hinata's hesitant approaches.

One day his walking stick missed a step and he tumbled disjointedly down a flight of stairs. He shoved his servants off of him, trying to stand even while both his legs were broken. He tried until the faceless hands and bodies pulled him to the ground.

Now he was restricted to his bed. His attendants hardly ever left him alone, scrutinizing his every move. They wanted to be positive his fragile bones would heal so he could walk again.

He wanted them to go away so he could cry.

Every day they would leave and allow Hinata to lean over his bedside and whisper soft wifely affections into his ears. She would let her fingers caress his hair. She would kiss his tattooed forehead. She would tell him about her day picking flowers in the garden. She would bring their son in, and he would garble out "Daddy!"

She would drive him into a rage while his son pressed tiny hands into his face.

He didn't understand her.

She didn't understand him.

They were caught together in the same cage, but he had always taken control. She was terrified of him. Or, she had been. During their nights he had made her lie with him with her hands bound, so she would be helpless underneath him. He had done whatever he wanted with her, and she had meekly obliged.

She had become so pathetic that he had stopped taking joy in the abuse.

Sometimes his excitement had revived, like the time she had whispered Naruto's name in the heat of passion.

Her punishment had been strange. He had forced her into a kneeling position, clutching her hair with violent fingers. With a twisted pleasure he had recited the rules of the main house, dashing a hand across her face at the end of each one. Every time he reached a rule about wifely subservience, he made her repeat the line after him, word by word.

He hadn't really been angry. She didn't know how obvious it was to him when she would smile at Naruto in the town, when she would give Sakura baskets of food to take back to her husband, when she would clutch her hands to her chest when he would walk past. In fact, Neji hadn't cared in the least. He didn't love her, either.

But the power had made him feel marvelous.

Now her affections enraged him: she didn't mean it. He didn't want her fake pity. If she didn't mean it, she shouldn't be here. She should be off behind the stables, clutching Naruto's back and letting out the soft pants Neji had grown to know so well.

But she came, day after day, whispering, pleading, explaining, consoling. It was maddening. He no longer took track of the days, but he knew a short time after he awoke there would be a hand on his forehead, checking his temperature and whispering: "Good morning, Hyuuga-nii-sama."

She was his subordinate, his wife and his cousin, and she had combined the three into one with irritating adoration. Every day, she would come. Did she do it to drive him mad?

"Why are you here?" he asked her one day, all his fury compressing into one acidic inquiry.

She didn't answer, pretending to concentrate on bringing a jug of water to his lips.

He slammed his hand against the pitcher, sending it tumbling from her clumsy grip. It shattered, and its contents splashed across the cold stone.

He heard her gasp and stutter with terror.

"Why are you here, Hinata? Why don't you go to him?" Neji banged his fist down against the nearby dresser, voice rising with an angry passion. "Why don't you go follow him around like you always used to do! Why are you here if you don't really care! I hate it how you always act like you care and you don't! Go away and leave me in peace! The only reason we are married is by fate. I need you to have children. I don't need you to sneak around here everyday, pretending to be a good little housewife. If you don't care, go away and only come when I call!"

"I—I—I…" She stood up abruptly, knocking her stool over in the process. It clattered to the ground, hollowly. Water seeped into its ancient wood. For a moment, there was a silence, but it was drenched in horror and tension.

"Go away and come only when I call! I _order_ you to go away and come when called! Leave me alone! Leave me _alone!"_

"Neji-nii-I…I…Hyuuga-nii-sama…don't…be angry with me…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" She knelt down to clean up the broken pottery, hands quivering madly. Terrified of him, despite his bedridden state. "I…"

"Go away!" He roared at her through the blackness and the bitterness. "Go away and don't come until called! Go away and make love to 'Naruto-kun' in the bushes! In fact, use our bed! I don't care, just don't come here anymore!"

"But-I want-I want to s-see…you…and-and…" And Naruto was cheerfully loyal to Sakura.

He caught himself, forcing his anger back inside. He recaptured his control. "Don't lie to me. I know you love him, so just go to him and leave me alone." Outward control, though, meant nothing: his head was light with impassioned fury. He had told her to leave and she wouldn't leave. He was in charge! She needed to leave because he told her to leave!

"But I don't want to leave you alone…make you lonely…"

"You're lying, Hinata."

"I-I…you…don't have your…your eyes…anymore…"

"I still know you. I know you're lying. All you care about is your precious _Naruto! _Your precious, _married_, Naruto!" Neji knit his fingers viciously into his sheets. He knew he had hurt her.

"Nii-san…nii-san…nii-san…" The mantra continued as she hugged herself tightly, broken shards forgotten. "I just…didn't think…you wanted to be alone…every day…"

Her lip quivered madly. "Don't be angry…nii-san…I'm sorry…"

He didn't know whether she was asking for forgiveness for her defiance or forgiveness for her adulterous love. He didn't care. He hissed harshly, "why are you still here?"

"I…you…are…my nii-san…and…and you…I…feel sad that you are…"

"You're happy I'm helpless. You're happy that I need you to take care of me. You're happy—"

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I…stop hurting…stop…" She clutched her hair and rocked gently back and forth, whimpering and sniffling. "Why…nii-san…I just wanted… everything to be okay. I wanted us to be a happy…a happy family together. I wanted to make the Hyuugas…a happy family. I…just wanted a family to…to love me! I wanted to pretend that's what we were. I don't want…the Hyuugas to be broken anymore! Please let's just pretend it's all okay! Pretend we're happy…please, nii-san? Please?" She dissolved into violent sobbing, tugging her hair with quaking fingers.

"…We can't pretend. We can't pretend to be one because we're not. The Hyuugas are not a happy family. _We're_ not a happy family. Why pretend if we know it's not true?"

She didn't reply.

"Why pretend?" He insisted.

"Because then…maybe…" She shuddered. "It will all be true."

"You can't make something true by lying, Hinata." He sounded almost gentle.

"Then…can't we…try…to make it true…nii-san…please? Don't you want…a happy family too? Don't you…want…"

"I want a successful lineage."

She sobbed, trying to dry her eyes and rubbing her nose over her sleeves. "Don't…you want…it all to end? Don't you want this horrid…cycle…to end? Don't you want more then this…this…_this?"_ She quivered.

"Fate, Hinata, drives our world in one continuous circle. Everything must flow with the circle. There is no escaping it."

"Maybe…maybe…that belief is why…nothing ever changes! Maybe…if we stopped believing…like pretending…then everything _would_ change!"

"Nothing is going to change."

"If we would just…"

"_Nothing_ is going to change. Believing any differently is the same as pretending." He stared blankly forward into the blackness.

She wept brokenly on the ground beside the shattered pot, whimpering "please…please…" into the deep folds of her clothing.

The next day, she brought him food. The next, and the next. She stayed by his side, tenderly touching his face in the hopes he would turn towards her. Every day, she loyally came, hoping he would acknowledge her persistent presence and strained loyalty.

But he just stared blankly forward, into the blackness.

* * *

I really hope you liked it! .


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